


wouldn't tell a god in prayer

by sketchbooksandspace



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 12:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20796566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchbooksandspace/pseuds/sketchbooksandspace
Summary: Garak tells Julian a secret. It takes a little bit of thinking for Julian to think of something to give in return.





	wouldn't tell a god in prayer

**Author's Note:**

> the last fic i posted was a bit too sad so i wanted to write something that leaves on a better note. once again, no beta, so please point out any errors you may see. hope you enjoy!

There were moments that felt light. Moments that felt like Julian could float away if not for a thin string running through his chest, guiding him along a path and wrapped around his joints and pulling and tugging him along his daily motions. A lightness that wasn’t quite euphoric, a moment that lasted much longer than it should’ve. 

There were moments that were heavy. Moments where the air was so oppressive as to wilt Julian’s shoulders, pressing down from all around him and curling around his soul’s breath until each inhale and exhale were pressing up against something foreign. A heaviness that wasn’t quite comforting, and a moment that lasted for forever.

This was one of the heavy moments. It shouldn’t have been, he didn’t think. But time was stretched out just as his body was, and he would’ve curled up on himself if he were alone. He wasn’t alone, though; Garak was cool even through both of their outfits. It was the opposite of grounding. Where they were pressed against each other, Julian felt blessedly unweighted. 

“You look like you’re thinking about something, Doctor.” Julian’s eyes slid from the ceiling to Garak’s face, not surprised to find a pair of sharp eyes pinpointed at him. Garak had the faint spirit of a smile on his face, in some dubious way that Julian wasn’t sure was an expression or an invitation. “Would you mind if I ask what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Cardassian equivocation knew no bounds. The air’s force prevented Julian from twisting his mouth up into a smile, but Garak always read him through his eyes, not his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind at all,” he breathed out. He watched, instead of Garak’s eyes, the twitching of the muscles around them. He wondered if they could say as much as what they controlled.

A low hum of amusement radiated from Garak. It wasn’t a sound a human could produce, Julian noted. “How clever.” 

“I aim to be,” Julian lied. He turned his face more towards Garak, but only to press it into his collar. It was a childish thing, to attempt to hide away his face after a lie, but even besides that Julian wanted relief from the air. It was driving him insane, and this- pressed up against Garak, a holovid long since finished- was the closest he could come to alleviating it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I think I am too.” The rise and fall of Garak’s body was helping Julian breathe, now. “But I’ll ask. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

_ An oncoming migraine, mostly.  _ But that wasn’t a ‘fun’ answer. It said nothing, did nothing. Being Garak’s lunch partner, acquaintance, friend-  _ friend-  _ made him think of those things. Not truth or lie, good or bad, important or unimportant. Instead, Julian found himself thinking in terms of the conversation as a whole. Did his statements offer something up? Did they distract from the larger picture, enrich an understanding of a topic? Did they short-circuit and strangle a conversation in an instant? 

After a strum of thought, Julian nodded. “Sometimes, I think the universe expands without me.”

“It does, it did, and it will.” The answer came sooner than expected, as if the line was scripted and practiced with powerful disinterest. He sighed, the slow breath just tangible through Julian’s hair. “It takes a long time to realize that. I’m surprised how little time it’s taken you.”

“When did you realize?””

“Only when you said it.”

“Ah.” Another pulse of weighted air washed over what parts of Julian were exposed to empty, empty space. He could barely stop himself from shivering, now, for want of any holistic method of escaping the weight of this moment. So he focused on Garak, beneath him and around him and shielding him. He focused on the contemplative breath Garak put out, focused on the shift of muscles that accompanied a head twisted in thought.

The breath before Garak started speaking was a long one for both the teller and the listener. “My mother's name is Mila."

Some gear refused to turn in Julian's mind. The words refused to click, until Garak's clothes were clutched tight under Julian's thinking hands. His eyebrows unfurled, a fleeting breeze of respite from the heavy moment. Mila, Garak's mother. His family. And something about these words radiated  _ truth _ in a way that Julian didn't know Cardassians could understand.

With Cardadsians, truth wasn't the hand of cards dealt to you by the universe. Truth was the stories you made around yourself that were crafted with your own hands. After all, Julian considered, how could one's truth- one's  _ identity- _ be tied to something they had no control over? No. For Cardassians, identity was sculpted and crafted with care and love by its owner. 

Or at least, it was supposed to be. Garak was so obviously molded by that Enabran Tain. Sometimes, Bashir worried that Garak didn't have that cemented sense of personality that defined most Cardassians, instead letting his stories be shifted around by a man who only wanted a tool.

So often Garak went on about selflessness. Selflessness and  _ sacrifice,  _ always for Cardassia's sake. And it made Julian wonder. It made him wonder if selflessness and sacrifice could occur at once, made Julian wonder if one was able to sacrifice without a self to give up. It made Julian wonder how Garak saw those strong Cardassian personalities in his novels as inconsequential. 

It made Julian wonder if he was being a bit hypocritical. 

Before Deep Space Nine, Julian didn't have hopes or dreams, aspirations or any sense of a future for himself. His career path was steered by his parents, the only ounce of agency he had in that decision being the opportunity to get as far away from his parents as possible.

After that day when he was fifteen, he'd never felt himself. He'd never had a self to go back to. He had been left, stunned, with the realization that Jules Bashir had died to make room for whatever his parents had wanted him to become, that the person he thought he was had been strangled long ago. 

So, he had went through it all methodically. He chose a new name, Julian. He realized he needed to stop showing off, to start humbling himself. And he decided that if he had come to exist because he had killed his twin soul, he had to atone.

He would not be selfish. He would not take from others, he would not steal away and covet friends who should've belonged to Jules. He wouldn't cheat, except to save a life. He would lie, but only to spare others. He would exist to atone, and that would be it.

He would selflessly sacrifice every day, to make up for the crime that was his existence.

But here- here was a bit of truth. Truth in the way of a Human, not a Cardassian. It screamed against every scrap of information Julian had learnt about Cardassian culture. Here was an acknowledgement by Garak that there was something far beyond and, if the tone of his voice could be trusted, far more important than, identity. What was it?

Mila: a mother. Garak's mother. What could Garak gain by telling Bashir this?

Oh. 

That was the point.

Garak would gain nothing. 

In fact, Garak would lose something. He'd lose a portion of his unflappable anonymity, that protective barrier around him built not of bricks but of void. That was trust. Vulnerability. 

From such a selfless man, this false Cardassian truth was more important and intimate than any story he could've made up. His lies were not sacred, so he was giving up a part of the only sacred thing he could. 

Julian braved the heaviness, peeling his face out of Garak's chest. He stared at him, searching for some sign of jest in Garak's eyes. Those eyes, though, they were warm. Sad and infinite but warm. 

_ Mila,  _ Julian mouthed, placing his lips and tongue with delicacy. It sounded strange, but he would receive this gift graciously.  _ Mila.  _

Garak slid his fingertips down Julian's arms until they found his hands, which Garak took firmly. "It seems you realize how important it is for me that you know what I told you."

"I'm surprised," Julian said, his voice small under the weight of the atmosphere around him. His pulse was painful in arms, and he wasn't quite sure how he was able to keep a thought in his head. "I understand, but- I'm surprised."

Such a secret was a promise, wasn't it? A promise that in the future, no opportunity would be provided for it to be used against him. Then, they had a future together. Tentatively. Offeringly. 

For a long time, Garak had been an indulgence. An afterthought, a bit of fun, a puzzle. But some time ago Julian had realized that it would never be so easy with Garak. He still believed that their relationship had a timer on it, that there had always been a timer on it. It was just becoming more and more difficult to be okay with that. 

His face was still screwed into something between shock and blankness, Julian knew. He slipped his right hand from Garak's grip, raising it to trace over his chin. Up and down, enjoying the light feel of scales under his fingertips and the affectionate stare of enjoyment that Garak gave.

Julian wanted to return the promise of a secret, but pressed all over by a gravity in the hollow of his chest, nothing came to mind. There was- but, no, he couldn't. He genuinely couldn't.

"I want there to be something I can simply tell you," Julian whispered, leaning forwards until their foreheads were touching, Garak's ear right near his lips. "But the only secret that's worth giving, I wouldn't tell a god in prayer."

There was something else Julian knew he could give, though. Not a secret. Something more in line with the Cardassian model. 

Julian would be selfish. Julian would take. Julian would covet and steal away. He'd cheat, he'd lie, he'd exist solely for himself. Julian would become someone, someone besides the shadow of Jules, and he would give that all to Garak. 

The exact moment the heaviness had gone was when Julian moved his mouth to speak into Garak's, though he breathed out his words more than he spoke them. "But if you stay with me for a while, I'll have something else for you."

Damn the timer, damn the universe. There was one place Julian wanted to be, and it was against this man with the heat pressed high and the feeling of tired nighttime in the air. Julian brushed a thumb against Garak's lower eye ridge, at the same time leaning deeper into the kiss. "You've given me much already," Garak murmured, or maybe hissed was a better word. 

"But not enough," Julian replied easily. 

A smile, fashioned to flash sharp teeth and display some layer of danger to a situation, betrayed much more sincerity than it was supposed to. "I am so happy that we can agree on that, my dear." 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr at [cardasssians!](https://cardasssians.tumblr.com)


End file.
